Page 10 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

It was the fact that every single one of the men was disguised, dark and featureless, hiding their faces completely behind red masks. It was like I’d stepped into some kind of twisted masquerade.

I turned to run, but the doors had closed. When I looked around to find somewhere I could escape to, Everett was there, his mask in hand, a smile playing upon his lips.

“Everett?” I whispered in a scared, timid voice.

“Welcome to your after-party,” he purred, his voice low and smooth, almost too casual for the tension that filled the room. His eyes gleamed as he looked at me, and bile rose in my throat.

The men in the room shifted slightly, and I felt their eyes on me—beneath those crimson masks, watching, waiting. I swallowed hard, my skin prickling with the undeniable danger. My fingers were clenched into fists at my sides, but I was frozen, like a butterfly trapped in a jar.

“I don’t understand,” I breathed.

Everett took a step closer, his smile never wavering. “Don’t be nervous,” he said softly, although his tone held something deeper, something darker. “Tonight is…special.”

I glanced around the room again. The alcohol was still messing with my head. I folded my arms in front of me protectively, but when some of their eyes went to my chest, I immediately dropped them, realizing the movement had made my breasts stick out even more.

“This is it, Sloane,” Everett said. “Your moment.”

I turned to look at him, my stomach knotting. “What moment?”

He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. “To take control. To decide what your future will be.”

My brow furrowed.

He gestured toward the room, to the men still watching me like I was prey. “This is your chance,” he said, his voice like velvet. “If you choose to participate in the auction, you won’t have to worry. About anything. I know you’ve been terrified about what’s to come. You don’t have to be. I came up with a solution for you. I’m giving you another chance.”

The wordauctionhit me like a slap, and I took a step back, my pulse quickening. “What kind of auction—” I asked quietly, still trying to grasp what he meant.

“You’ll be entering a world of privilege, of wealth, of security,” he interrupted smoothly, his hand falling to my shoulder and tightening slightly. “Whereyou’rein charge. You won’t have to worry about money or your future. You’ll have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.”

I shook my head, the words refusing to settle. “I don’t—” I stammered, but he cut me off again.

“Remember the women you’ve seen at my parties? I know you’ve always admired them,” he said, his tone insistent now, coaxing. “Remember how they looked? How they moved through the room commanding attention, respect? They made the choice to be masters of their destiny, and now that you’re an adult, you can as well.”

My mouth went dry as I stared at the glittering scene before me, my mind flashing back to the way those women had seemed untouchable, powerful, radiant. But now the illusion cracked under the weight of my uncle’s words, the edges of their perfection fraying in my memory.

“Do you mean…those women are paid by those men? To…be with them?” I asked, finally starting to connect the dots.

“They know the power their beauty wields,” he said, his voice growing softer, like a whisper that wrapped around me. “And your beauty, Sloane…it’s even more magnificent than all of theirs.”

Everett’s words sent a shiver down my spine, his compliment and flattery hitting their mark. Even after two years, I still soaked it up like a dying flower desperate for water.

"You could be pampered. Wealthy. Never have to worry about supporting yourself. You can be one of the elite. Not many women get this chance."

I looked up at him, searching his face. He looked completely confident, like he believed this was my only option.

“I…” My voice faltered, my heart pounding so hard it felt like the room might hear it. “I don’t know. You…you want to put me up for sale in an auction?” I clarified, the words too horrifying to really be true. He had to mean something else.

I waited for him to deny it. To tell me I was putting his words together all wrong.

He didn’t.

“Me? No.Iwouldn’t be doing anything. You would bechoosingto put yourself in the auction. You’re an adult, Sloane.”

I shook my head, my ears thudding in time with my heart. “I couldn’t…”

“You don’t have a plan, Sloane. You have no job, no acceptance letters, no place to live. Once you graduate, you could end up on the streets. I’m giving you an incredible opportunity, and it’s just for the night.”

He smiled again, but it was victorious this time, like he already knew what my answer would be. Like he’d planned for every possible reaction, every protest. “You do know,” he said. “You’re just afraid. But fear is temporary. Power, Sloane…power lasts.”

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